


A Debt Repaid

by autumnamberleaves



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnamberleaves/pseuds/autumnamberleaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"An eye for an eye, a life for a life" all debts must be repaid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paying the Debt

Midday on a Monday my friends would be found either scrounging for lunch or gambling at the Statue. Not me though. Headlines stunk but I managed to sell half of my papes before giving up and dragging myself to the Lodging House. I quietly entered the building that had been my home for the last ten years of my life. I was alone. Good. I needed the quiet. It had been a horrible day, an unpleasant current trend of my life.

When did my life get so screwed up? I'm not that bad of a person. While life was never easy being a newsie, my problems were bigger than the average working kid's. And no one knew, not even my best friend. And that was without today's fiasco.

*Earlier that Day*

"Hey you kid! Come back here!" a burly man bellowed, his voice booming over the general hubbub of the busy street. I chanced a glance at my adversary before I turned and ran the opposite direction. My feet pounded the uneven pavement, my worn out boots flopping as I ran. A woman and her child stood admiring a flower wagon and I threw myself under the display, nearly knocking the woman over.

"Sorry 'bout that." I whispered as softly as I could. I felt the woman appraising me. Her nose turned up and her eyes squinted. 'Street rat,' I could practically hear her thinking. Well, that was fine by me as long as my hideout remained a secret. The thud of heavy boots slammed the ground-and passed me. Whew.

I didn't even know why I was being chased, I hadn't done anything wrong. Despite the reputation that a newsie automatically gets, I was a pretty good kid, soaking and smoking aside. Other than the strike, my record was spotless, and even those charges were dropped when Roosevelt got involved. Maybe I just looked like I was trouble. Maybe the man was having a bad day. Perhaps he just needed someone to blame for life's infortunes. Well, stratch that, I knew why I was being chased but not why the man was targeting me. It had been almost a whole since the incident. The incident that was too commonplace among the street rats.

The day had dawned bright and early, a crispness in the air that hinted at the upcoming fall. Autumn was pretty and a relief from the summer's hot sun so in one way it was welcomed. To the orphaned and runaways of New York though it signaled the frigid winter that would soon arrive. Too many kids had died or became crippled over past winters' furies. Older kids like Jack, Racetrack and me loathed the season, young kids like Tumbler, Boots and Snipeshooter still held childish dreams of playing in the upcoming snow. I wondered who would be the first to become deathly sick. Last year it was a seven year-old boy who had only a month before joined the newsies. I doubt any of us would forget Scattah; the sickness had been long and unbearably harsh. It was a relief when the child finally died; at least he was at peace.

We though the young boy had no family. After all, most little kids who show up at the Lodge were orphans. Very few children under the age of eleven ran away, and so we had assumed Scattah had no family. We were wrong. And I was paying for it. The man, Scattah's uncle, was alive and had supposedly taken claim of him. I didn't and probably would never know the details but if his uncle was as brutal to the young child as he was to me, it was no wonder he'd run away.

Earlier that day, I had been busy trying to sell my papes, gathering sympathy for my 'disposition,' people called it. How I hated being different, yet how lucky I was too, at least it helped me earn a living. I wasn't the only one who felt that way, Crutchy did too, he said. The crippled boy just handled it better. In any case, the headlines were horrible and even counting my 'disability,' had only sold thirty of my seventy papes.

"Mayor sets fire to government property!" I bellowed, making a last ditch effort to sell. In reality, the mayor had accidently let his cigar get a little too close to a box and was it was quickly put out. My effort was rewarded with five woman and a couple of men flocking to buy my pape. That's when I saw him, a big boon of a man walked as stealthily as he could towards me. Which all considered, wasn't that stealthy but to him, I bet it was.

"You kid, you a newsie?"

Was this guy drunk? I was hawking headlines and selling papes how could I not be a newsie? I decided to humor him. My curiosity always got me in trouble.

"Yes." I slowly answered, eying him to the best of my ability. It wouldn't be as chilling as if Spot was giving you the look but it was more menacing than, say, Mush attempting it.

Apparently it wasn't that intimidating at all, I reflected as I dodged a punch the man suddenly shot my way. Backing up some, my own hands balled into fist, I grit my teeth.

"What the hell?" I really wished for Jack or Spot to suddenly appear. I could hold my own in fights with other newsies but this guy outweighed me by a good two hundred pounds. I wasn't picky, if David or even Crutchy appeared, I'd be grateful.

No such luck. I was alone and too far from any of my fellow newsies for them to be of any help. Now, when a guy is involved in a fight against bum odds, there are only two options, fight and possibly die or run as fast as you can and hope you can lose them. I knew what I had to do.

"Well it's been nice talking to you but I got to scatter!" I turned to flee but the man suddenly leaped and grabbed me by my shirt collar.

"You'll listen to me boy!" Ugh, his breath reeked, I thought as the pungent smell reached my nose. "You live at the Duane Street Lodging House?" I remained silent. I had no desire to talk with this thug.

"There was a boy there. A seven-year old boy. Damn parents went off and died two years ago. He ran off last year and the government found out. They stopped sending me, his uncle, money for his upkeep. I finally found out where the brat lived and went to collect him. Imagine my surprise then, when I learned that he'd died! Now, I don't care for the little heathen but he was my money! And to think I lost my money to a sickness. I know what condition those lodging houses are in, and how everyone gets a measly cotton blanket. You should have given him your blanket and he would still be living."

"Look mister. It's a tragedy that the kid died but no one could have prevented it. And you only care about your money anyways!" I bit out as I wiggled from his grasp and took off running.

I had come to the flower cart only minutes after the encounter with the drunk. Peeking out from the cart, I noted that I had lost the man and that it was noon. I wasn't hungry, indeed, I felt sick to my stomach from the encounter and from the memory of Scattah. He was too young to die.

*Present*

I sat on my bunk and stared off into the distance. While the drunk was definitely crazy, he did have a good point. Scattah's death should have been prevented. Maybe if the older kids had offered the little ones more blankets, more food, Scattah would still be around. Maybe all the kids who had died would still be alive. Sure, some died due to violence but the majority died of the harsh elements.

I didn't blame myself for all the deaths, but I did feel Scattah's death was on my hands. Each of us older kids often looked after a few of the young ones. Scattah had been my responsibility. I let him get sick. I let him die.

When the boy had died, I had felt a little bad but thanks to the loon of an uncle, it was all rushing back to me. Being an orphan, I didn't have many responsibilities to anyone. I wasn't like Dave whose family was depending on him for their income. How could I have failed so badly to one child then?

Newsies have a code of ethics between each other. An eye for an eye, a life for a life. It helped keep serious fights to a minimum. Who would really want to start a fight knowing that if you won, anyone was free to do whatever damage you had caused someone else to you? Not many people. Sure we weren't shy about fighting against people who weren't newsies but to each other we usually were loyal.

Scattah had been my kid to look after. I failed him and he died. My debt to be repaid. Scattah revenged, my problems gone.

I stood up and walked to a window. With shaking fingers I opened the latch. With a gentle push, the window slid up. I crawled out of it and on to a two-foot ledge. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.


	2. A Misstep in Decision

Two months. Two months ago my little brother and I stepped out of our tiny world and into a universe more complex than anyone in my family could fathom. Two months ago I had been a book-smart kid intent on graduating at the top of my class. Trying to forget my troubles, I spent many hours of memorizing facts. Useless facts.

Yes, I had known desperation. My previous life was not without its struggles and tragedies but my eyes were opened to a world where book-smarts only got you so far and street-smarts were what mattered. Before, I had been content to live the life of a kid whose parents supplied the means to support my family. Now, the kids were supporting the parents.

I'm the middle child of the family. The second one to begin to work. My little brother had followed me on that fateful day of my paradigm shift. The day I became one of the working kids of New York. A newsie. He'd begged me to let him sell and I hadn't the heart or the guts to send him home. Not after the accident.

My family's excuse for me becoming a newsie was my father's factory accident. It was more than that. The excuse was not even true. In any case, two months, sixty days ago I started my new life.

It wasn't always fun and it rarely was easy being a newsie. Your income depended on how well you could spin dull as dirt headlines. Then there was the whole mess of the Strike. We had won but our troubles were far from over, every paper mattered. Money was still hard to come by.

For that reason, I decided to skip lunch Monday afternoon. I gave Les a few precious pennies so that he could eat but I didn't need to. Jack was more than glad to watch my brother for the afternoon so that worked out well. With little to do as I had sold as many papers I could that day, I set off to the Lodging House. I didn't live there but it was nice to stop and visit. Sometimes guys would be there, other times they weren't but I decided to take my chances.

I decided to take an alley short-cut there, avoid the trollies and hubbub of the city that I had only really just gotten to experience. It was quieter going through the allies; even if you had to watch your back more carefully than if you travelled the main streets. The upcoming autumn was present with the crispness of air that could only come from the season.

I walked for fifteen minutes, taking in the solitude that I so rarely got these days. Quiet time was a rare commodity that I treasured-no matter that I was heading to the Lodging House for company who also didn't want to waste money on food. The path ultimately led to the back entrance of the newsies' home, which wasn't frequented much due to the caretaker, Kloppman's, request for everyone to enter in the front to check in.

I started to cross over into the front of the building when something stopped me dead in my tracks. An icy feeling tore through my spine, leaving me numb with dread. Something was wrong, but what? The only other time I had felt that way was when the Accident had happened. Not even the night that the police had raiding Irving Hall had left me with such alarm. Steeling myself, I looked around to locate the source of my trepidation. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Cigar butts littered the ground; an occasional weathered newspaper lay forgotten. Then I looked up.

"Blink! What the Hell are you doing?" I hollered, belatedly I hoped that my scream did not spook the teenager. Why was Blink on that ledge? It was death waiting to happen should he fall. Blink seemed like a happy kid, not as enthused about life like Mush or Crutchy, but satisfied nonetheless. It didn't seem possible that death was what Blink wanted, but the evidence stood on its own.

I shouldn't have worried about spooking him. The one-eyed teenager showed no indication that he'd heard me. If I was a betting man, I'd say that Blink didn't even realize he had an audience. With horror, I watched as Blink seemed to steel himself. I had to do something. I doubted I had enough time but I'd never forgive myself if didn't try.

Giving one last fleeting glance at the window, I barged into the back door and ran through the building until I came to the steps. Leaping two or three steps, I never registered how many, I darted up the stairwell. Out of breath, I refused to stop when I reached the top. I might have already been too late. Zipping through the hallway, I came to the bunk room.

The window stood looming there. Wind whistled through it but none of that was my concern.

Relief was found. Blink stood trembling right outside of the window.

"Blink!" I all but sputtered out, my lack of oxygen finally catching up with me.

"Dave? What . . . are you doing here?" Blink finally noticed my presence. I noted his white-knuckles clenching the window as he turned his upper body towards me.

"Me? Me! What are you doing Blink? Are you crazy?" I muttered, praying that I'd have the right words to say. I got my nickname, "Walking Mouth," from being able to come up with words to convince people to do what I wanted them to. I only hoped that I would not fail this time. I'd rather be facing Pulitzer again.

"Leave me the Hell alone! You think you're so hoity-toity, coming from a family who loves you and having the perfect life. You think you know everything, but you don't know anything! You know nothing of the Newsie Code!" Blink was defiant but I saw his eye flicker with some unknown emotion.

"Newsie Code!" I couldn't help but scoff. "You mean loyalty? Hell, who was the leader of the strike who didn't deflect, even for a minute? Me!" I reached out my arm, trying to pull him inside. The stubborn cur of a boy simply twisted out of the way.

"See you know nothing! I see Jack taught you nothing-except improvin' da truth! The code of "an eye for an eye, a life for a life!" My confusion must have shown on my face because he quickly explained about the little boy, Scattah, and Blink's supposed role in the child's death.

"Blink, you're nuts if you think that you killed the child, nothing could have saved him!" I argued against the blond teenager's logic. He gave an exaggerated eye roll and turned once more to the ground below. I had to get him to see the truth quick. Blink's grip on the window would soon slacken or the ledge would break, not being meant for weight. I sighed, the situation called for only one thing.

"Blink. My life isn't as grand as you seem to think it is. It's true I have a family and that we are happy together but it's not true that we haven't had struggles. I'm as loyal to my family as you think but if I lived by the Newsie Code that you seemed to have warped, then I wouldn't be here speaking to you. I'd be dead!"

If anything, that caught his attention. "Dead? What do you mean?" His curiosity won over his indifference. I really had hoped to never have to tell the tale. I could count on my siblings never telling-Les still had nightmares and Sarah cried almost every night.

"As in, I would have done the same thing as you are doing now." I whispered; my voice caught in my throat. Like a fish caught on a hook, I had Blink's full attention. Pausing only for a moment to get my breath, I began my story.

"You know I'm the middle child. Sarah and Les of course are my respective older and younger siblings. What you and no other newsie know is I have a twin. Or had a twin, rather. His name was Benjamin, he and I were identical, and as close as friends as you and Mush. We looked alike but despite being best friends, our personalities were very different." Despite the gravity of the current situation and the horror of my story, I found a small smile that had spread on my face.

"He was like Jack in a way-a dare devil, more adventurous than I could ever hope to be. I think that's sort of the reason my parents welcomed Jack into the family so easily actually. Ben, as he was called, was the one who protected my siblings at school-Les being only just old enough to attend."

I could see Blink's surprise registering on his face as I spoke of my twin. Maybe he was starting to realize that no one's life was perfect but dying wasn't the answer to the problem. I plunged on into the story of my secret brother.

"You know that I'm not much of a fighter. I hear all the names the other newsies call me for my lack of street skills. Well, there was this problem at school. . ."

"Hey you Jew!" I didn't want to but I found myself turning around. Despite New York having a lot of Jewish immigrants, my siblings and I were the only ones who attended this school. Les was safe in class and Ben was off somewhere with a friend so the voice had to be talking to me. And the person didn't sound happy.

"Yes?" I kept my voice even. Better not show any fear.

"You and your mangy family don't belong here. So unless you want to end up floating in the river, you better get out of here!" A tall and muscular teenager glared at me.

"Look, just because I actually study and have an IQ higher than yours-though that's not too hard, a flea has more intelligence than you-doesn't mean you get to decide who belongs where!" More bravado than I really felt seeped through my voice.

"Why you little Jew, I'll show you how to treat your betters!" My mouth had landed me in trouble I realized as the boy lunged at me. I closed my eyes and waited for the attack. The attack that never happened.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a blur of color ran from the opposite direction and toppled the bully. When I finally got my whit back, I chanced a glance at my rescuer. It was Ben and he was holding the other teenager down on the floor.

Before more could be said, the school matron appeared in the hallway and we were all pulled into her office. My father had to come and walk Ben and I home as if we were Les' age. It was the longest walk, I felt as I took in the street vendors and noise of the busy city. I thought we were going to get the whooping of our lives when we arrived. Pa said nothing as he had led us home. That changed when we arrived at the apartment.

"Ben. Good job." It was all he said, but upon that, we knew we would not be in trouble. Or so we thought. A worse trouble was coming.

"Ben and I got suspended from school for three days, the other boy received two weeks detention. I'm the only one who made it back." This was the hardest part of the story. The part I never would have thought I'd be telling but yet here I was. I tend to pace when I'm talking if I'm nervous and I barely registered that I'd begun my habit.

"Two days later, after we had gone to bed there was a noise outside of the window of the room I share with my brothers and sister. I'm a light sleeper and it woke me immediately. I couldn't place it at first; it sounded like some scratching at the window like a cat." Blink was intrigued, I could tell and at least he hadn't jumped-yet.

"It wasn't an animal. The teenager, William, in less than five minutes knocked out the glass in the window and crawled in. I don't know how he found out where we lived." I gulped and paced some more. "He had a knife. Somehow he knew which twin he'd awoken because he called me by name and held it to my throat. I think I screamed-I don't remember- and my siblings and parents awoke. My Pa came running in the room and Sarah and Les were able to scrabble out of it due to the confusion. Ben and I were trapped in though. Pa went straight at the guy and the knife slid and cut him." I silenced for a moment, too emotionally drained to continue straight through.

"Dave, is that how your father really got hurt?" Blink asked, still on that damn ledge.

"Yeah, it hurts him to talk about it, so he blames it on a factory injury. Anyways, William took the moment that Pa was distracted from his cut and lunged at me. Once again the knife never pierced me. Ben wasn't as lucky. The knife went straight in his heart." I didn't speak again for a few minutes and I was so caught up in my own thoughts that neither sound nor reality flickered through.

"David?"

"Davie?"

"DAVE!" That time sound rushed into my ears and I registered my surroundings. Somehow and I couldn't fathom how it had happened, but I had meandered right out of the window and onto the very ledge that Blink himself was on.

I forced myself not to look down-I hated heights. "So if it's life for a life as a newsie, does that mean that I should kill myself over Ben?" I didn't really expect an answer. I knew that Ben would have wanted me to keep living and helping my family. He would be proud of me and I could only hope that Blink would see the similarity in the situations.

"No. . .So you don't think that Scattah blames me?" Blink's voice was still hesitant but hope was beginning to shine through.

"I'm sure he doesn't. Come on, let's go inside." This time my plea worked and Blink slowly turned and climbed back into the window. I followed his footsteps, and tried to ignore how high up I was. One tiny step after another and I reached out to grab the window pane.

One tiny misstep is all it took and I fell, plummeting to the ground below.


	3. Waiting it Out

My eye went wide. For one horrible moment, I stood dumbfounded in shock. I shook myself, now wasn't the time to freeze. David needed me. Hopefully, it wasn't too late. A quick glance showed the twisted form of my friend.

"Davey!" I sprang from the window, and out of the bunkroom. The Lodging House had never felt as large as it did that day as I tore down the steps hoping to find Kloppman at his desk. No such luck, the old man was still not to be found.

Only seconds later I was out of the building and a mere five feet away from David. His body was twisted, his leg jetting out at an angle that was certainly not natural. His eyes were closed and his curls were matted down with blood.

"Davey?" I took a step closer to him and reached out my hand. Time stood still as I forced myself to touch his chest. Thump. Thump. He was alive at least for now.

I had to get help. I had to leave David. I couldn't leave David. What was I supposed to do?

I thought for a moment and then sprinted a few short feet away so I could see the front of the building but still be able to watch Davey. The city that never sleeps seemed to be oddly deserted in the middle of the day.

"Help! Anyone help!" my voice carried louder than I had ever used it for selling papes.

I glanced at the other boy; blood was beginning to pool around him. He needed help now.

Off in the distance I heard a welcoming noise. The faintest of voices that grew as the person neared the building. Taking a deep breath, I screamed again.

"Someone help me! My friend will die without help!"

Finally, the voice was now accompanied by running feet. In a matter of seconds, Mush stood beside me, his face twisted in shock.

"Davey!" He turned to me. "What happened to him?"

"He fell from the window." I felt dead inside. David had to survive, he just had to! What would happen to his family if he died? I didn't want another death on my hands. Then again, David had said that Scattah's death wasn't my fault but his would definitely be.

To his credit, Mush didn't even ask how the other newsie had fallen; he had already crouched down beside him. "Help me pick him up. We need to keep him still." In a perfect world, we'd get one of those medical coaches but there wasn't enough time.

It took a lot of maneuvering but finally we had David settled safely between the two of us.

"The nuns aren't too far away. We should take him to them, they run that hospital." I was glad that Mush was taking charge. The boy didn't usually show authority but he had his moments. Without wasting any more precious moments, we set off for the nuns' wagon. It was far past breakfast but they'd still be there.

Ten long minutes later, we neared the nuns. To their credit, they noticed our plight right away. One exited the wagon and was to our sides with a speed that betrayed her appearance. "Place him in the wagon. We shall take him to Saint Mathew's Hospital."

We were careful not to jostle David as we slid him on the wagon, the other nuns shifted to give us space. I turned to Mush. It was my fault Mouth was hurt so I should go with him but the other guys needed to know what had happened. His family needed to be informed as well.

"Mush, I'll go with 'im. Go tell Jack and the others. Davey's family needs to know too." My best friend nodded before giving one last glance at the unconscious boy and took off running. Mush was fast, he'd find the others quick enough.

With a crack of a whip, the horses led the wagon onto a gallop. I sat lost staring at David, blood was still oozing from his head and his face was growing even paler than before. I must have sat there, lost in my thoughts for some time as I startled when a hand grazed my shoulder. I looked up and it was the same nun who had ran to meet us.

"He's in God's hands son. What is his name? We'll need to know for the hospital staff."

"His name's Davey…David Jacobs." It was true I called him by his given name some times but for the most part everyone had adapted to Davey or Mouth.

"And he is orphaned, yes?" She questioned.

Apparently she hadn't heard my hurried conversation with Mush. "No, he's got a family, Mush, the other newsie who brought him here, went to tell them."

She seemed to mull that over in her mind. "What's your name, son?" I think she was trying to distract me from worrying.

"I'm Blink. Kid Blink, ma'am. We sell The World."

A little less than five minutes later we arrived at the hospital. I hopped out of the wagon as one of the nuns hurried to the door. A brief moment later, a doctor ran full speed out of the building. He spared a very quick glance at me before ordering me to help Davey in the building. The boy was skinny but it would have been difficult to not upset his injuries further if one person had attempted to carry him.

We entered the hospital and the almost stench of sterile cleanliness assaulted my nose. I preferred the earthy smell of the outdoors mixed with money-earning ink on papers. We immediately turned left into a hall and the doctor motioned for an aid to open a door on the immediate right. A cot stood there in the middle of the small room and we eased David onto it.

"I'm Doctor Jenson, what is your name boy?" His voice was kind but rushed. I answered softly, still scared out of my mind.

Then the doctor asked me the question I knew was coming but had been dreading.

"How did…"he thought for a second seeming to recall something "David get hurt?"

"He was up in the Newsboy's Lodging House and somehow fell out of the window." I mumbled, staring at the ground.

"Has he shown any signs of being unhappy for an extended time period?" The doctor poised his pen onto a pad of paper. "Any sudden changes of mood or behavior?"

"No, he's been happy, seems to be happy about having friends-"I suddenly caught on to what the doctor meant. "He ain't suicidal or anything, he fell by accident!" The doctor made a tisking sound as if he didn't really believe me but dropped the issue.

"I'll need you to leave the room as I examine him." I nodded and walked slowly from the room. Mush had been fast, when I reached the dingy lobby I had barely noticed earlier, I was greeted by Jack, Racetrack, Specs and Crutchy.

Jack addressed me. "Mush is still trying to reach his folks. They weren't at home. Les is with Skittery and Tumbler."I nodded, sliding into a uncomfortable-looking chair beside the Manhattan leader. "Blink, how did this happen? Mush said Davey fell from the window in the dorm room."

"He…noticed I had gone to the window for some…fresh air and was a bit too far out. He was trying to rescue me and fell." I improved the truth; I was not going to tell the full truth, not then at least." The other boys gave me a look that clearly said they didn't really believe me but to their credit, didn't call me on it.

We sat there in silence for a solid five minutes before Racetrack broke the tension. "Guess what I saw at Sheepshead before lunch?" We all pretended to be interested for Race's sake.

"What did ya see?" Good old Crutchy, he even sounded like he cared about whatever it was.

"A lady pickin' up a horse."

"Ha. That's funny Race." Spec's dry voice answered as the rest of us rolled our eyes.

"And it's also true!" Racetrack defended himself.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Jack shook his head, his eyes never once having left the door he had seen me exit from.

We had been at the hospital for nearly an hour and Davey's family still wasn't there. Neither was Mush though, so I assumed he was still trying to find them. Slowly another hour passed and then another. The normally rowdy bunch of newsies was unnaturally silent as the minutes and hours ticked by.

Then the door opened and Doctor Jenson stepped out.


	4. A Good Headline

"He's alive." With those words, we all sighed in relief. The doctor's eyes looked strangely somber though for such good news. Jack ended up asking the question that I'm sure was burning in everyone's mind.

"What's wrong with 'em? 'Cause you don't look so happy."

Doctor Jenson was silent for a moment before seeming to come to a conclusion. "Kids, he's alive but he's not out of danger yet. In addition to a compound break of his left leg, I've had to stitch a gash on his head. He's also got a couple of broken ribs. With any luck, hopefully he'll awaken soon though he'll be in pain when he does. You are welcome to see him, but-" he looked at us in doubt "you need to wash up. The last thing he needs is an infection."

"Yeah, we got it, we won't contaminate him with our fleas-"I elbowed Jack, now was not the time to irritate the man. To his credit, Jack blushed and apologized. He seemed sincere too, but whether he meant it or was just trying to smooth ruffled feathers, I'll never know.

The doctor gave one final nod before leading us to a sink and then going into detail as to how to properly wash our hands. We were street rats, not completely uncivilized but this time, no one dared to mouth off to the man. He was just doing his job that was all.

In what seemed to be hours, but was probably only minutes, Dr. Jenson led us back through the waiting area to Davey's door. He pushed it open and motioned for us to be quiet-unnecessarily as we hadn't talked.

Davey lay on the same cot I had last seen him on. This time however, bandages covered much of his body and his leg was encased in a cast. His breathing was labored, a sign that he was in pain despite being unconscious. A large wrap of material circled his head, dark in spots.

Fresh guilt hit me like a train. If it hadn't been for me, Davey would probably be enjoying supper with his family. Instead, he was laying hurt in a hospital. Barely aware of my friends, I inched forward.

"I'm sorry Davey." I couldn't manage more and it would only confuse or maybe even anger, the other newsies. Not that I didn't deserve their anger, but it was hardly the place for a fight.

Jack came up next and addressed his selling partner, "Davey, don't ya worry, Mush is getting your family. You'se gonna be fine."

Crutchy and Race both asserted their well wishes and we settled in for another period of waiting.

Fifteen, maybe thirty minutes dragged by and Davey still hadn't awoken. We jumped at a slight gasp at the door. David's family had arrived.

"David!" his mother rushed forward, beating out even the longer strides of his Pop. Sarah glanced frightened at her brother and inched towards Jack, who held her in a hug. I could hear him uttering soft assurances to the girl. Les hadn't come and I assumed he was still with the older newsie. Mush stood at the door, looking exhausted from the effort of getting Mouth's folks.

I caught my friends' eyes and nodded to the door. We shouldn't intrude on a private family meeting. So all minus Jack of us went through the doors and into the waiting area again.

"His folks are here, if you got any place to go, I think it's ok to leave him." I said, knowing that regardless of what my friends did, I would stay. To their credit, Mush, Crutchy and Race shook their heads. David was one of us now and no newsie wanted to abandon him.

I sighed, my guilty conscious eating at me. I made my decision. "Guys, I got somethin' I need to tell ya."

Race gave me a critical look. I knew he must have suspected something. You'd have to be a pretty darn liar to fool him.

Without further delay I launched into my story. Once or twice one or another of the newsies would interrupt but each time I held up a hand for silence. I shared everything except David's past, that was his to tell. It was best just to get it out in the open and quickly. When I was done, Race allowed me approximately a second to breathe before he launched in.

"What are ya, crazy? Dat kid's death won't your fault. Davey was right! And you'se stupider than I give you credit for if ya think dat dyin' will solve anything!" He shook his head and I could almost see the non-existent cigar butt burning smoke in my face.

Shame flushed my face. I knew he was right but that only made me feel worse about Davey. As if he could read my mind, Mush butted into the conversation.

"Blink, we all know ya didn't mean for Davey to come save you and get hoit and no one blames you." He gave a rare glare to Race as if daring him to say otherwise. "And I'm sure that Davey won't blame you either!"

"Yeah, Blink, Davey's a nice guy; he won't even blame you a bit!" Crutchy hobbled over to me and patted my back.

Whatever else that would have been said, I'll never know because once again the doors opened and Dave's family trooped out of the room. "He's awake!" We all cheered up at that announcement and his mother came over to me. "He would like to see you." Her soft accented voice sounded tired but happy. Maybe things would be ok. I nodded and walked through the room, still a bit scared but I knew I had to do this.

"Hey Blink." David's eyes found mine as the other boy laid propped up with pillows. An easy smile drew on his face even as pain danced in his eyes.

"Dave, I'm really-" I started to say but was caught off.

"Don't say you're sorry, you don't have anything to be sorry about." He sounded as sincere as he did when he had rallied us to seize the day during the strike.

"But if I hadn't tried to-" I couldn't say the words-"If I hadn't climbed on the window sill, you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"Listen Blink, I'm just glad I was there, all right?" David shook his head slightly and then looked like he regretted the action. "I couldn't save Ben but I'm happy I could save you."

"But-" He cut me off again.

"And it sounds like you saved my life." I could tell that no amount of trying to tell him that his life would've not needed saving had it been for me would work. The boy was stubborn that way. He grinned again. "Besides, Jack'll probably be in your debt!"

I was lost, had they given the other boy some medicine that made him crazy? "Whad'a mean?"

"Well, just think of how many papes we'll sell with me being injured. I hear that's always good for a few extra papers!" He smirked and I rolled my eyes. The kid had been around Jack too long.

***************Two weeks later*************

"Hey Blink!" I turned at the sound of the familiar voice. David hobbled over to me looking more like Crutchy than Crutchy ever did. The Jewish boy wore a smile and gestured to his empty pape bag. "I sold hundred papers today-not including what Jack sold! This being injured bit does work rather well!"

I laughed. "Glad to hear it." I was back to normal now, though I'm sure Jack and the others were watching me close to make sure I didn't get any more stupid ideas in my head. I wouldn't though and that day's headline made my day even brighter:

"Uncle of Dead Child Arrested! Extortion, Plot to Murder Charges Pending!"


End file.
